Goody, Like Two Shoes

We eventually went home; dropping the motorbike back at Frank's grandfather's house before anyone returned home from work, and then we walked back to my house, quiet.

Frank followed me into the kitchen, like a lost puppy, and he tried to wrap his arms around my waist when I searched in the fridge for an icepack.

"Are you mad at me?" he whined as I found a packet of frozen peas - the only substitute for an icepack - and held it to my swollen bottom lip.

I flicked my hand at him, a motion that said "Just. Be. Quiet."

"You are mad at me, aren't you?!" he pouted, trying to tug the bottom of my t-shirt and pull me over to him, "You are!"

"I'm not mad at you!" I said, my voice muffled against the cold, plastic bag.

Frank threw his arm over my shoulders, the fingers of his right hand playing idly with the pink tips of my hair.

"So, Frankie, what's this surprise of yours?" I ask, leaning against him as we walk slowly.

Frank simply smiles, looking straight ahead, and stretches his left arm out, pointing at the black front of a shop in front of us.

Around the name of the shop are silver stars, and Frank pulls me up to the glass so we can both look inside.

The shop is deserted, save for a large, tattooed and pierced, bald man sitting at a desk; drawings of skulls, gothic-like flowers and odd bits and bobs covering the wall behind him.

"Come on, then. We've not got all day." Frank says, opening the door, stepping inside and beckoning me to follow him.

The large man looks up, smiling as he sees Frank.
"Frank, long time no see! Back for another?"

I tilt my head, bemused.

"Naw, Dave, but my little friend here," Frank motions to me, "is getting her lip pierced."

I finally notice a bundle of leaflets on the desk, and I pick one up;
"Piercings and Tattoos; Half Price for all of October"

"I am?" I stutter, looking at Frank.
Haven't I ever told him about my phobia of needles?

"You are." he smiles reassuringly, and we step behind the counter when the man beckons us to follow him into the back of the shop.

The room is brightly lit, more drawings cover the walls, and a reclining leather chair is set right in the middle of the room, with a little metal table on wheels next to it.

Dave rummages in the drawers of the metal table, grabs whatever he needs and motions for me to sit down.

My teeth chatter nervously and I grip Frank's hand, making myself as comfy as I can in the chair and muttering out a quiet, "I'm scared of needles."

'Close your eyes, count to ten, and it'll be all over' Frank leans over and pushes some hair from my eyes, careful not to nudge the bandage on my forehead.

I shut my eyes.

I feel something cold on my lip.

A sudden pain.

'Ow, muuberfooker!'

"I'm sorry." Frank sighed, sitting beside me on the couch, and his hand shyly slid onto my knee, landing on top of my own hand, "If I'd have known you'd be in this much pain, I'd never have made you get it done."

"It's not the pain...Frank." I stammered, feeling like I had a lock on my lip, "It's all swollen and ergh..."

Frank smiled slightly, ""Swollen and ergh"? Great description, there."

I did my best to smile back, and I rested my head on his shoulder, "Thank you, anyway; even if my lip does look like there's a marble shoved in there."

Frank looked down at me and put his arm across my shoulders, his opposite hand snatching the TV remote off the coffee table, "You're welcome, sugar."

We sat in silence as Frank flicked through the TV channels until he found the one he was looking for, and then he cuddled into my side, leaning his head against mine, "This is a good show."

Within seconds, Frank was giggling like a little boy; his hand clutched to his mouth, his eyes screwed shut.

"Is this really that amusing?" I asked him, smiling.

"It's "Ed, Eddy and Eddy"; of course it's amusing!" Frank grinned, "Oh, hey, look it's Jimmy and Plank! Man, I love this show."

The sound of the front door opening made Frank and I grimace; the both of us rolling our eyes when we heard my mom call out, asking if I was home.

"Shh." Frank put his finger to his lips and then shoved his hands beneath my legs, hoisting me onto his lap and whispering playfully, "Shall we kiss, m'dear?"

"If we must. But, remember, be careful of my goddamn lip ring; it still stings."

He didn't reply, just pressed his lips softly to mine, gazing into my eyes.
"Shut up, Sasha."

"Romantic." I chided him, getting a flick to my cheek from his index finger in response.

"Sasha?" Mom called from this kitchen.

"Ignore the silly bat." Frank growled, his lips latching onto mine again and he twined his fingers in mine.

If we were more than just best friends, I would've said that he actually enjoyed kissing me.
But, yeah, this is Frank we're talking about - the most random, spontaneous member of the male species you could ever meet; and he wore pink sometimes.Maybe he's gay?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't realised what was going on until Frank's hand slid under my t-shirt and rubbed the small of my back and his thumb hooked into the waist of my jeans.

My. God.

Had someone just shoved some spiders into my stomach? Because, really, I felt odd; so odd that I let out an involuntary groan and tangled my fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

I don't think there's spiders in my stomach. I think they're butterflies; big, happy butterflies that have randomly flown into my stomach somehow.

I could feel Frank smirk against my lips, but the smirk didn't last long because we heard my mother scream.

We looked over the back of the couch, to where mom was standing in the doorway with her mouth hanging open.

"You're cheating on my daughter! Wait until I tell her, young man. And on our couch of all places!"

Frank suppressed a giggle as I adjusted my top, "Uh, mom, it's me."

"Sasha?" Mom stuttered, staring at my hair, to my eyes and lipring, and then to my clothes, "What's happened to you?"

Frank stood up, grinning maliciously at my mom, "Sash decided she wanted a change; didn't you, baby?"

I looked up at him, smiling back, "I did."

Mom didn't seem all too happy, though. "Where are your glasses, Sasha?"

"Oh, I just got rid of them." I replied simply, "forgetting" to say that Frank had shoved them in his back pocket, forgot about them, sat down and crushed them in the process.

"It's lucky I didn't get glass stuck in my butt!" he'd said at the time, 'Could you imagine my perfect, model-like ass scarred for life? Not even plastic surgery or skin grafts would have fixed the damage."

I'd told him that I didn't want to imagine his behind - clothed or not.

But, anyway, back to the whole living room scene.

"I'm disappointed in you, Sasha." Mom said sombrely, "What have you done to yourself...?"

She didn't wait for a reply, just walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Frank and I waited until we heard her car start up before laughing hysterically and hugging each other.

"Her face!" Frank choked out, "Did you see it?!"

"It was like she was giving a speech at a funeral!' I cackled, high-fiving the boy who I had to thank for pretty much creating a new me.

'Well, doll, it is kinda like a funeral, wouldn't you say ... I mean, the old you has died, and, well, just look at you now."

We danced around for a few more minutes until Frank threw me over his shoulder, bombarding his way through the house to the kitchen.

"Cookies!" he grinned, setting me down on the counter and reaching for the blue jar, instantly beginning to chomp away.

Buster left the basket that he'd taken up residence in with Muffin and scampered across the floor, his tail wagging wildly as he approached us, and Frank squealed loudly, picking his "baby" up from the tiles.

"Hello, my cute little furball! Do you want a cookie? Do you, do you?"

I stared at him like he was mad.

"You're only jealous." he stuck his tongue out at me, and it just happened to be covered with smushed chocolate and cookie crumbs, "You want me to feed you cookies and cuddle you, too. You, plainly and simply, want all my attention."

"I might even take you up on that offer, Frankie. A cuddle-servant for the day sounds quite appealing."

"Yeah?" he grinned, his face lighting up, "You want a cuddle?"

I nodded and the butterflies returned.

I'd never had this feeling before.

I felt so childish that I didn't actually know why these butterflies were there.

It couldn't possibly have had anything to do with Frank.

Could it?